Unspoken
by Mina1914
Summary: It's Francis' birthday, so he decides to take Arthur out with him to celebrate, before they return to their apartment to relax. Only later, Francis reveals his surprise for Arthur.


Unspoken

Pairing: FrUK

A/N: By the way, I wrote this on June 14th for Francis' birthday, also known as Bastille Day. Which means I wrote this months ago.

* * *

><p>A soft breeze blew through the window, on a cloudless summer day, creating ripples in the drawn back drapes. Francis' shoulder length hair lightly flowed behind him, a smile on his lips, his forearms resting on the slightly-chipped windowsill. He was sitting in an armchair with dark colors and unique designs, a hum of delight echoed in his throat once he inhaled the fresh air, his eyes closed.<p>

Today, of course, is June 14th, the Frenchman's date of birth. He was nervous and wary not for his birthday, but for the events that will take place. In his head, they were all already planned out. He would obviously use his necessary charm and flirting, his lover either reacting with negativity or, in most cases, reluctant acceptance. The lover he was thinking of, was in the shower at the moment, preparing for the day ahead of them.

Arthur Kirkland. Not a snobbish, swearing-like-a-sailor man like most thought he was, but a more intelligent, gentle human being. And much to Francis' enjoyment, he was occasionally romantic. The whole, _'Don't bloody mess with me, I'll curse you'_ act was just so he wouldn't be bothered like Feleciano, from what Francis was told. In fact, he hated war.

He also had many good skills and hobbies. For one, Arthur smokes. It wouldn't be categorized as 'good', but Francis thought it was _very_ attractive when he did. The Brit used to smoke frequently, until Francis insisted on slowing down his habit.

So now, he only smokes when he's nervous, or just really wants to. Francis smokes as well, but not as much. Reading was what Arthur spent most of his time on. He usually read outside whether it was raining or sunny. On rainy days, he would sit on the wooden, two-seated porch swing, which always seemed to creak. Francis occasionally joined him, bringing a bottle of wine along, but Arthur preferred reading alone, not that he minded Francis. And on bright days, he sat at the small table in his garden, sipping on Earl Grey, with a book in hand, his legs crossed.

He played violin as well, which Francis loved to hear. Arthur was wonderful at playing, but not nearly as talented as Roderich. He rarely performed in front of people, Francis an exception. When he did play away from the Frenchman, he would be alone in their room, Francis being in hearing range from the living room or kitchen. He also sang. Which, he was good at as well. But, he mostly sang or hummed songs from_ 'The Beatles'_.

From Francis' experience, Arthur preferred to 'make love' with passionate touches and kisses. Not to rush right into the penetration. Hickeys were tolerable as well. France doesn't enjoy rushed sex as well, having a soft spot for kisses along the skin, and gentle caresses.

A laugh echoed from the Frenchman, realzing how much they had in common, not just habits and opinions, even though they argue quite alot. His thoughts wandered to their relationship, a tender smile spreading over his lips.

They've been together, which Francis insisted it being called 'in love', for about three years. At some point in the ninth month, Francis requested Arthur to move in with him in his apartment, the Brit almost instantly accepting. When he first moved in, he would get annoyed whenever Francis bought the wrong tea or spent sums of money on clothes or beauty products.

Not to mention always trying to have sex with him. Which was about seven times _a day_, which was a ridiculously large amount of sex for Arthur. But, Francis learned to purchase the correct tea brand, Arthur grew used to seeing bags of clothes on the floor of their bedroom, and Arthur learned to ignore him whenever he innocently asked to lay together on the bed.

When Francis first insisted on sleeping together in the same bed, Arthur refused. But, the Frenchman pointed out that there were no other beds, only the couch in the living room. So, the Brit reluctantly agreed, with an exasperated sigh and flushed cheeks. And, much to France's surprise, Arthur cuddled in his sleep. He would always end up scooting over to Francis, laying his head on his chest, throwing an arm over him as well as a leg.

Of course, the thought of Arthur and a bed reminded Francis about the very first time they made love. The thought of sweaty skin, rushed breaths, and pleasured moans sent shivers up his spine. Before he could imagine detailed thoughts about the memory, he heard the water shut off and the rustle of the shower curtain. Francis continued to gaze out the window as footsteps repeated, and distant ruffling of clothes.

A few seconds passed before he heard the sound of the door knob turning and the door sliding open. The smile grew on the Frenchman's lips. He rested against the back of the armchair, knowing Arthur was watching from their private bathroom, his arms resting in his lap. Footsteps began after his movement, Francis feeling arms slide down his shoulders and curl around his neck. A shiver traveled through him, feeling fingertips brush his hair to the side, pressing gentle kisses along the back of his neck.

"Hello, love."

Francis craned his neck back, gazing up into Arthur's bottle green eyes. He slid his eyes close, and attempted an exaggerated pucker. A low laugh came from Arthur above him. He felt the arms around him tighten before lips met his, Francis raising his hand to Arthur's cheek, returning the kiss. It only lasted for a few seconds, the Brit lifting his lips away. Francis whined jokingly, a loud laugh echoing in the room from Arthur as he slid his arms away.

Before Arthur could escape, Francis stood and walked past the chair to him. He wrapped his arms around Arthur, folding his hands together on the small of his back. Arthur only had a towel tied around his waist, blush forming on his cheeks as Francis pulled their bodies together.

"Hello, _mon amour mignon_.", the Frenchman purred, observing his lover's damp, spiky hair and his wide furrowed eyebrows. Arthur blushed a slightly darker shade, "I'm not cute! I'm handso-" He froze once Francis lifted a hand to the Brit's frowning eyebrows, and smoothed them out with his fingertips, smiling at how they felt beneath his fingers.

"What..?", Arthur blushed again, raising his hand to his eyebrows, touching them to see if there was something stuck. "You are _incroyablement beau_.", Francis whispered, gazing at his lover's features with awe. Shock spread over the Brit's face for a few seconds, a tender smile replacing it. "_Vous êtes ainsi._", Arthur murmured French, his eyes sliding half-lidded. Francis felt Arthur slide his arms past his own, gripping the back of his wine-red dress shirt, pulling him closer. A slight tint of blush appeared on Francis' cheeks. Arthur closed his eyes, the emerald disappearing. He connected their lips, Francis resting his hands on Arthur's waist.

The Brit eagerly held Francis' face in his hands and moved his lips against the Frenchman's. Francis pressed back with more force, smiling against Arthur's lips. He slid Arthur's towel away from his waist, opening his eyes to the Brit's blushing face. Arthur pulled away, his face slightly annoyed but still blushing. Francis roughly kissed him again, Arthur kissing back before disconnecting again.

"We shouldn't do this..", the Brit averted his eyes to the large, welcoming bed behind them. The Frenchman pressed tender kisses on his neck as Arthur glanced at the bed. "Why not? It_ is _my birthday..", he murmured against his skin.

A surprised yelp came from Arthur as Francis pushed him back onto the comforter, crawling over him with a smirk on his lips. "We need to get ready!", Arthur weakly protested, even though he wrapped his arms around France's neck. "Mon amour, it's only twelve p.m.", the Frenchman purred, his hand traveling south. A soft, stuttered whine slipped from Arthur as Francis wrapped his fingers around his cock.

Francis pressed light, tender kisses on the Brit's neck and shoulder, a smile on his lips. "Damnit, Francis.", Arthur clenched his eyes shut, his breathing stirred. On cue, the Frenchman began to stroke it firmly, moving down as he pressed kisses on the Brit's chest and abdomen, smiling at his lover's moans and trembles. Arthur felt his heart flutter as Francis flicked his toungue out, rolling it over the tip, a gasp rushing from the Brit.

"J-Just do it fast..", Arthur panted, gripping the comforter under his palms. The Frenchman pulled away and glanced at him, "Making love can't be rushed, amour." Arthur twitched once Francis returned to his work, his breaths becoming rushed.

* * *

><p>The bed lightly creaked as Arthur slid the covers off of him, pushing himself off the bed. He glanced back at Francis, the Frenchman resting his head on the headboard, looking up at him. "I need to get ready, are you just going to lay there?", the Brit asked, walking to the closet. "Yes, but can you lay with me?", Francis replied with a smile on his lips, sitting up.<p>

"No, you got me to waste enough time already.", Arthur browsed through his shirts, almost meaning what he said. He heard the sheets rustle, and Francis step onto the floor, tensing up once he heard him approaching. "I think this would look good on you, oui?", Francis murmured, taking hold of the sleeve of his wine-red dress shirt, ignoring his comment. Arthur shrugged lightly, brushing his fingertips over the smooth fabric.

He felt Francis kiss him on the shoulder, his lips leaving a tingling sensation. The Brit averted his gaze to him, before smiling lightly. "_Je tiens à te voir avec çela_, Arthur.", Francis lowered his aqua eyes. England nodded, lifting his hand to the hanger, lifting it off the bar.

Before they were both dressed in suits, Francis had asked Arthur to join him in the shower but of course the Brit refused, leaving the Frenchman to wash himself. Francis was amused by how stunning Arthur looked in one, no matter how many times he's seen him in a suit before. Arthur wore the chosen wine-red dress shirt beneath the black jacket of his suit, and the matching slacks with a black belt and tie. His short, sand-colored hair was messy like always, a failed attempt at smooth hair.

Francis had a navy blue dress shirt, to compliment his eyes, with a black tie. His coat and slacks were black as well, his outfit almost identical to Arthur's, the only difference the color of their dress shirts. His hair was down, save for the small ponytail in the center, a few blonde locks pulled together from the sides, his bangs falling down on opposite sides of his forehead.

The keys jingled as France lifted them from the night stand, eyeing the digital clock on their night stand. He felt hands on his shoulders turn him, Arthur adjusting his tie once he faced the Brit. "So, what do we have planned for the day?", he asked, patting Francis' chest once he finished fixing it. France smirked before leaning in and pressing his lips against Arthur's cheek, "I can't tell, amour." The Brit arched an eyebrow, "Why not? Shouldn't I know?"

"Oh, no. It would ruin my surprises."

"Surprises? What surprises?"

"Nothing.", a smile spread over Francis' lips as he grabbed a pack of cigarettes off the small table before striding past Arthur, out their bedroom. "Hey-!", Arthur followed him after grabbing his black framed glasses off the dresser, tucking them in his breast pocket.

* * *

><p>Soft clinking of silverware against plates, glasses knocked together in cheers repeated in the restaurant. The buzz of conversation hung in the room, the atmosphere calm yet eager.<p>

"This is your _'surprise'_?"

The Frenchman looked up from the cursive print in his menu, to his lover in front of him. He folded it, setting it before him, folding his arms and legs. "Yes, it's wonderful here, is it not?" Arthur remained silent, staring at his menu. Francis smiled, watching Arthur open his mouth and snap it shut, not wanting to say the wrong thing. "Yes, it's very nice..", he ended up murmuring, the grin on Francis' lips growing.

"Um, are you paying?", the Brit glanced at him, his eyes wary. "Oui.", Francis smiled, already expecting his response. "But, it's your birthday. Let me pay.", Arthur protested. "Non, I wish to.", the Frenchman waved his hand once, closing his eyes and shaking his head. Arthur hid his face in the menu, pouting in silence. Francis took the opportunity to tighten his ponytail and brush his bangs back, a smug expression on his face.

Their server appeared, approaching their table with quick, but controlled steps. He had short, smooth blonde hair that fell in front of his forehead, with powder blue eyes, and a clean shave. "_Que voulez-vous pour dinner meussiers?_", he asked, his voice low. Arthur lowered his menu, glancing at Francis. Francis nodded at Arthur, the Brit returning his eyes to the waiting server.

He shifted in his seat uncomfortably, "_Oui, je prendrai du civet d'agneau à l'olive et à la figue, s'il vous plait._" The waiter nodded, turning to Francis as a sigh silently rushed from the Brit. France smiled at England before looking towards the server, "_Je prendrai du_ _civet de Cerf_." The waiter nodded once more, taking their menus from their places in front of them. "_Aimeriez-vous un vin ce soir?_"

"Oui.", the Frenchman replied, a smile on his lips. "_Vos plats vont bientôt arriver, en attendant, j'espère que vous profiterez de votre soirée, messieurs._", he bowed slightly. "_Merci._", Francis answered, dipping his head as well. The waiter turned on his heels, and strode away.

A few silent minutes passed, the wine eventually arriving. The waiter placed their wine glasses before them, pouring the red liquid into the waiting containers. He pulled the wine bottle back once it reached a few centimeters below the rim. "_Merci._", Francis thanked him. He nodded before pouring a glass for Arthur, popping the cork back into the wine bottle.

He returned to the chefs, leaving the pair to themselves. Arthur studied the restaurant, the assortment of people and their clothes. He nearly jumped in his seat, noticing a young French woman with very long blonde hair staring at him intently with lust in her eyes. She caught him returning the look, blowing a kiss with her gloved hand, winking, and completely ignoring her date. Damn flirty French women. He stared at her with horror.

Francis followed his eyes, laughing loud enough to break Arthur's stare from the woman. "What?", the Brit blushed. "You should go say hi.", France joked, smirking. Arthur dropped his hand onto the table, the wine in his glass shaking. "Are you crazy?"

"I am very much sane, amour."

"Fine. I will."

Arthur scooted out his chair, and began to walk past Francis. But, as expected, the Frenchman grabbed his arm. "Wait! I..c'était une plaisanterie.", he admitted, a sheepish look on his features. Arthur grinned, returning to his seat.

France lifted his glass, raising it to his lips, taking a drink. A soft sigh of delight rushed from him, his eyes closed. He set the glass down, opening his eyelids to Arthur. "You know, you should continue your modeling career.", he began, wanting to start conversation.

Arthur sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb, hearing this many times before. He growled a flat, "_No._" Francis smiled widely, his teeth exposed, "Your body is beautiful, you would do great!" Another sigh slipped from the Brit, "I am planning to _stay_ a veterinarian, thank you very much." Francis had a full on grin, ear to ear.

"Oh that's right, your animal _'friends'_ convinced you."

Arthur growled and hit his fist on the table, the silverware and wine jumping, "Damnit! I _told_ you, I saw them from sleep deprivation many years ago!" Francis tapped a forfinger on his chin, humming in thought, "I don't remember you telling me..maybe it was your imagination running wild again?" Arthur was about to curse at him loudly, but held his tongue, two small girls passing. Instead, he just mumbled to himself, flashing Francis a glare.

"I'm just kidding, amour.", Francis nudged him on the shin, his smile lowering. Arthur waved him off lightly, raising his wine to his lips and taking a drink. A few minutes passed, Francis just watching Arthur, thinking about him and what to talk about. "Have you come to a restaurant like this before?", Francis asked out of interest, noticing Arthur freeze mid-drink. He lowered the glass onto the table and replied with a simple, "Yes.."

"Oh? By yourself or..?"

It took a few seconds for Arthur to respond, "..With Alfred."

Oh. "How did it go?", the Frenchman continued the questions, but truthfully not giving a damn. He hated the subject almost as much as he loathed Alfred and his culture. Arthur looked down into his wine, tracing the rim with his finger. "Well, it was when I called off the engagement.", the Brit mumbled. Francis already knew about Arthur and Alfred getting engaged, and how Alfred was Arthur's _'first'_. Even though Francis hated to ask, he was still curious to know.

"Why?"

The finger froze, "Why? Oh..well..there are a lot of minor, _minor_, reasons, but the main one was because.." He paused, eyeing the Frenchman warily before dropping his eyes again. "..Was because he started paying _attention_ to Matthieu.." He heard a gasp from Francis.

"Matthieu!"

Arthur nodded. "Mais merde, ils sont des frères!", Francis stretched his hands out in front of him, as if displaying something. Arthur nodded again, dropping his hand onto the table. Francis sat back against the chair, appalled. "I had no_ idea _Matthieu would be in an incestuous relationship with", shudder, "_Alfred!_"

"Well, now you know."

Francis sighed, shaking his head, trying to erase the image of them out of his head. "Anyways," Francis waved his hand dismissively, "What about those minor reasons?" Arthur sighed, praying he wouldn't ask that.

"Well..I didn't like his eating habits, he mostly played video games, we _always_ argued, we had different sleeping scedules, and.." Francis muffled a snort at the first two, but grew silent as he heard the frustration in his lover's voice. "And..", Arthur began as blush tinted his cheeks, "I didn't like..how he did it.." Francis looked at him, puzzled, "_It?_"

With a sigh of defeat, Arthur looked down, "..Sex." Francis stared at him for a few seconds before laughing lightly, "And what do you like that he supposedly didn't do?" Arthur's lips pursed in thought, "Um, what I like in that-"

"Making love."

"Yes..", Arthur glanced at him, "Is that it's passionate, not rushed..mostly kissing and touching..", he mumbled, fidgeting in his chair. He heard a short laugh slip from Francis, "Good thing you're with me, oui?"

Francis heard a 'yes' come from Arthur before the server approached with their dishes in hand. "_Vos mets._", he said as he placed their orders in front of them before walking off to tend to other customers. Francis observed his dish, slightly annoyed at how little was on his plate, before glancing up at Arthur, smiling to find him looking. The Brit continued to stare, even though he was caught.

"You're wearing your hair differently.", he commented on the obvious, Francis beaming, glad that he noticed. "_Oui!_ Do you like it?", the Frenchman turned his head to show him.

"Yes, but hold still."

France kept in place, confused. But he felt fingers run through the small ponytail, before brushing his loose hair. He turned to Arthur, Francis' face slightly shocked, noticing him sit back into his chair. Blush spread over Arthur's cheeks once he looked up at him, averting his eyes. Francis reached back and felt the ponytail, feeling nothing. "There was something in your hair.", Arthur looked away.

Francis tenderly smiled, "_Merci beaucoup, mon amour._" He reached across the table as well, when England wasn't paying attention, and held his motionless hand on the table. Arthur's shoulders tensed up, flickering his eyes to Francis, turning a deep scarlet.

"Let's eat, oui?", Francis lightly squeezed his hand, leaning over and pressing a gentle kiss to the back of Arthur's hand.

* * *

><p>"Thank you for accompanying me this evening, amour."<p>

Francis pulled Arthur into a tight hug outside the restaurant beside his red Convertible, Arthur lightly returning it. "It's not like I could refuse..", he answered, mumbling into his lover's shoulder. Francis smiled warmly once he pulled away, still connecting their hands. "If you wish, you can touch my hair again, you don't have to make an excuse to touch the one you love.", the Frenchman's smile grew, brushing his hand down Arthur's cheek.

"W-What? I didn't make an excuse! And I don't want to touch your filthy hair again!", the Brit shouted in a flustered manner, pulling his hand away from Francis'. France took his hand again before the Brit could open the passenger door, "I didn't mean it like that, amour." Arthur remained silent, glancing up at him.

"I meant that you don't have to be shy around me, it won't bother me if you want to."

Arthur watched him for a few seconds with wary eyes, before exhaling. "I-I know, we've been together for three years.." Francis let go of his hand, "Okay, you ready to leave?". He began to turn and walk to his side, but he felt Arthur grab his wrist. "..Wait." Before Francis could reply, Arthur raised his hand, the Frenchman freezing.

He brushed France's hair back, behind his ear. He was about to pull his hand away, but paused, studying Francis. Francis remained still, watching Arthur raise his other hand and slide his fingers delicately over his forehead, brushing his bangs to the side with his fingertips. After another pause, England began to run his hands through Francis' long, blonde hair, watching with interest in his eyes.

Francis slid his eyes close, enjoying the touch, no longer seeing Arthur. He felt Arthur move his hands higher, gently. Hearing England's breath become jagged, feeling Arthur slowly pull his hairband out, the small ponytail falling down. Arthur began to run his trembling fingers through those locks, sorting it out. After a minute of touching, he noticed the pause of his fingers, his breath going silent as well.

Abruptly, he felt Arthur smash their lips together, the Brit's hands now on both sides of his face. Arthur eagerly moved his lips against Francis', soft moans repeating. Francis felt Arthur press against him, his leg sliding between Arthur's. The Brit pressed his lips forcefully against the Frenchman's, Francis pressing back, deepening the kiss. Their lips overlapped as they kissed back, both of them fighting for the lead.

Francis slid his hand down Arthur's back, past his waist, and _squeezed_, a jolt erupting through Arthur, feeling his breaths trespass as they both opened their mouths. "Mmm..", Arthur hummed against his lips as he slid his tongue past Francis' lips, flicking it against his tongue to get a response. Francis roughly shot his tongue over England's, their tongues wrestling, Arthur furrowing his eyebrows in concentration, trying to overpower the Frenchman's tongue.

Drool pooled in their mouths, a little bit escaping Arthur's. Their tongues danced as Arthur slid his hand past the front of France's belt, and began to rub below it, feeling Francis shudder. He continued to massage, Francis' tongue weakening, Arthur sliding his tongue over France's. Francis began to lean against his hand, Arthur grinning and pressing back harder. But, Arthur's hand froze, finally realizing they were in public. A groan came from Francis once England pulled away, with pants escaping his lips, Arthur straightening out his suit, wiping the drool off his lips and chin with the back of his hand. Francis did the same, smirking devilishly before approaching Arthur again, whispering in his ear.

"_Mon dieu, tu es tout excité, villain garçon.._", he hissed, the smirk revealing his teeth.

"Sh-Shut it! ..I got caught in the moment, that's all.", Arthur blushed madly. He fidgeted in front of the Frenchman, jumping once France grabbed his bicep. Francis only pressed a gentle, kiss to his lips before slowly pulling away, Arthur blushing again. England huffed before he turned on his heels and pulled open the passenger door, falling down onto the sand colored seats, Francis chuckling before walking around the hood and following suit.

Several minutes passed, Francis driving with one hand, his other intertwined with Arthur's, occasionally trying to get a kiss from Arthur each red light. "So, what do you have planned now?", the Brit was curious to what he was hiding from him. Francis hesitantly slid his hand away from Arthur's, flicking out his arm before reading his wrist watch. 4:02 p.m. He returned his hand to Arthur's, happy they had so much time. He was incredibly nervous.

"We have five hours to do what you wish."

"_Me?_ Er..how about we just..go home, maybe?"

"Oh! Good idea. I bought a new movie, I almost forgot.", Francis turned to him with a smile. Arthur returned it before remembering something. "Also, I need to give you your present." Francis nodded slowly, "Right..You got me a gift?" England tightened his fingers around France's, "You didn't want one?"

Francis glanced at him, "Oh, no!", Arthur furrowed his eyebrows, "I mean, yes! I meant 'no' as in I didn't mean it like that. I'm happy you did, it's just, I don't recall asking for anything." A smile appeared on Arthur's lips, "I know.", tightening his fingers around Francis' again.

* * *

><p>A click sounded once Francis twisted the key, pushing the door open to their quiet home. Arthur followed behind silently as Francis walked in, clicking the door shut behind them. The Frenchman unbuttoned his coat, resting it on the couch's arm before clicking on the lamp, light filling the dark room.<p>

"Johanna!", Arthur called before tending to his own coat, watching for a black figure. She was probably sleeping on their bed. But, to Arthur's surprise,  
>she amerged, as predicted, from their bedroom. A soft mew welcomed them home as the jet black cat approached the Brit, twirling around his legs, purring.<br>Arthur slid his coat off his shoulders, raising it to the hangers in the closet beside the front door.

He crouched beside Johanna, sliding his hands through her arms and lifting her. An annoyed meow came out as she opened her mouth, Arthur looking into her rare violet eyes. He couldn't explain why her eyes where that shade, even as a vet.

"Hey, baby.", he cooed, nuzzling her cheek. "Sometimes, I think you love that cat more than me, Arthur.", Francis watched from the side, his arms crossed. Arthur cradled her in his arms, Johanna staring up at him. The Brit shot Francis an unamused look, "What? You want me to call_ you_ baby? As I do recall, you are not one. Unless you arn't telling me something."

Francis laughed, "Non." Arthur strode past him and the living room, into their bedroom. He gently laid her on the bed, on his side, running his palm over her black coat. She purred beneath his hand, a smile spreading over his lips. But, he felt arms wrap around his waist, a body pressed against his, the smile wiping off his lips.

"_Je devrais peut-être commencer à ronronner, pour te faire sourire comme ça, non?_"

"Get off.", Arthur pushed him off, walking to the closet. He unbuttoned his suit's jacket before sliding it off his shoulders, the color of wine-red replacing the black. "So, what movie did you buy?", he called over his shoulder. "You'll see.", he heard Francis answer. "It better not be a piece of shit..", the Brit mumbled. He loosened his tie, slipping it from his neck once he untied it. For once, he didn't hear anything come from Francis, which meant something bad, as he unbuttoned the dress shirt, revealing his chest and slightly muscled abdomen. He turned to the bed.

The Frenchman was watching at the foot of the bed with an amused expression on his face, his legs and arms crossed. "Please, do continue.", he noticed Arthur freeze with an annoyed look. The Brit sighed before returning to the closet, snatching his forest green pajamas. After charging into their private bathroom, he slammed the door shut. "You're going to have to change later, amour.", he heard France call.

"I don't bloody care!"

Footsteps repeated, passing his door, into the living room.

Once he buttoned up the pajama's top and slipped on the bottom, he grabbed the dress shirt and black slacks, opening the door caustiously, flicking the light off behind him. He recalled placing his glasses in the pocket of his suit's jacket, pacing to the closet after putting away the slacks. The hangers jingled as he selected one, hanging the dress shirt up. He fished out his glasses once he found the coat, slipping them onto the bridge of his nose.

He noticed Johanna missing from the bed, praying that Francis didn't touch her. The floorboads creaked underneath his bare feet as he paced quietly into the living room, watching for Francis, as if he was a booby-trap. His emerald eyes grew wide, taking in the scene. The lamp on the side table was dimmed,  
>the room peaceful and silent. All the windows were shielded off by the shades and curtains, no extra light seeping in.<p>

What surprised Arthur the most was that Johanna was curled up in France's lap, the Frenchman reading a novel, his glasses propped up on his nose, his hair pulled back into a low ponytail. They _never_ got along. Arthur tried his best to be silent as he approached the back of the couch, not wanting to ruin the moment or be caught. He moved his hands beside Francis' ears, sliding his glasses off, smiling to himself. Francis craned his neck back, looking up at Arthur.

"Hello, baby.", the Brit teased, pressing an upside-down kiss to his lover's lips, sliding his eyes close. Francis returned the kiss, lifting his hand from the book, touching Arthur's cheek. Arthur pulled away, a tender smile on his lips, not really minding to call him that. "Hello.", Francis returned the gentle smile. The Brit walked around the couch, sitting beside France, only to return to his feet. Before Francis could ask, Arthur handed him his reading glasses, "Pillows and blankets." He strode past him and Johanna, to the closet outside the bathroom in the hallway.

The white door creaked once he slid it open. He pulled out two quilts, deciding to put one back, and two large pillows. Once he returned, Johanna was laying as far as she could from Francis, his glasses and book resting on the side table. Arthur returned to the couch, placing a hand on France's shoulder to make him lean forward, sliding a pillow behind his back. He returned to his previous spot, placing his pillow beside Francis as the Frenchman adjusted his own pillow.

Once Arthur sat beside him, he spread the quilt over them, settling back into the cushions. The Brit realized Francis had changed into his own pajamas. A loose fitted light blue, fleece sweater and black sweats. Arthur had no idea why, but he thought he looked good in them and that it suited him.

His eyes drifted to the clock on the wall as Francis set up the movie with a remote, the hands representing 5:46 p.m. "It's called, _'Help!'_.", Francis spoke, the Brit averting his eyes to him. Arthur sat straight, "Really? I've been wanting to buy it." A few laughs echoed from Francis, "Yes, I wouldn't mind watching some British _'humour'_." He recieved a soft slap on the arm, more laughs slipping from him.

Just as the opening scene started, Arthur curled his legs up on the couch beside him, Johanna escaping to their bedroom, and leaned on Francis. Francis smiled, intertwining their fingers beneath the covers.

* * *

><p>"Amour? Arthur."<p>

The movie ended awhile ago, the Brit had fallen asleep in Francis' lap, the Frenchman too content to wake him up after the movie. He felt his shoulder lightly shake, his eyelids drowsily sliding open. "Hmm?", he mumbled, slowly sitting up from Francis' legs. "Amour, I have something to show you, get dressed.", he heard him whisper, feeling fingers brush down his cheek. "..Right.", he murmured in response, sliding his hand to the end of the too-comfortable quilt, pulling it up.

Without realizing it, Arthur had gotten dressed in tan capris, and a fitted plain t-shirt with a green, long-sleeved over shirt. He left that unbuttoned, too lazy to lift his arms. But, he remembered that he forgot to give Francis his present.

After grabbing the gift and checking that Johanna's food and water bowls were full, he decided for the hell of it to wear flip-flops, actually too lazy to tie on sneakers. Once they locked up, the lamp and flat-screen switched off, the pillows and blanket folded and tucked away, they climbed into Francis' Convertible. Arthur noted Francis' choice of an outfit as the Frenchman started the car: tight, but not too tight, black jeans, and a long-sleeved white t-shirt with flip-flops as well. This time, his hair let down, to blow in the wind.

* * *

><p>Their trip was silent, unusual for Francis. Arthur only stared when they pulled up to the beach, surprisingly, the sand was completely empty of visitors. Francis switched the vehicle off, remaining silent as they watched the perfect view of the lowering sun over the waves.<p>

"Exactly 9:30..time for the setting sun.", Francis suddenly accounced, glancing up at Arthur. The Brit returned the gaze, watching as he pushed the door open and step out. He followed suit, shutting the passenger door behind him. Their flip-flops lightly patted the sand as they approached the shoreline, Francis, for_ once_, stumbling on his feet, only to regain his balance. Arthur gawked, noticing his stumble.

What the bloody hell is going on?

He felt Francis slide his hand over his own, his face unreadable. Several minutes passed as they walked side-by-side next to the waves, the water reaching for their taunting feet. Arthur paused, mumbling 'Hold on' before sliding his flip-flops off his feet, holding them in his free hand. It was peacefully silent as they walked together next to the shoreline, often stopping to view the setting sun and the sky.

The sun sprayed bright pinks and oranges over the sky as it slid past the waves ever so slowly, a soft smile growing on Arthur's lips. After each step, an empty footprint was left behind, only to be washed away. Francis paused, his face blank, Arthur averting his eyes to him before stopping as well.

"Love?", the Brit asked, watching him. Francis dropped their hands, walking in front of Arthur. He slid his hands up to Arthur's face, cupping it in his palms. Arthur stared, Francis leaning in with closed eyes, connecting their lips delicately. Arthur studied Francis as he moved their lips together, slowly sliding his eyelids shut after a moment. He wrapped his arms around his lover's neck, clutching his long hair, leaning into the kiss.

After a few minutes of passionate kissing, Francis pulled away, his expression soft and content. Arthur furrowed his eyebrows, confused to why Francis backed away from him. He watched as Francis averted his aqua eyes to the setting sun, only to return his view to England.

Suddenly, he pulled something from his pocket, a small black box-

_Oh._

Arthur watched with wide eyes as Francis crouched onto one knee, his eyes searching Arthur's face, and slid the small case open, revealing the most beautiful ring Arthur has ever dared to see. It was a simple, which what he loved about it the most, silver ring with diamonds going around the outside save for the very center, a circular emerald sitting between the diamonds. Arthur felt his heart start to beat faster, his vision going blurry the tiniest bit.

"Arthur..will you marry me?"

Arthur felt his knees go weak, his heart pumping against his ribcage. His voice betrayed him, finding no words to say. He felt his lips curve up, finding no way he could describe what emotions he was feeling. He clutched the bottom of his shirt, his lost voice returning to him.

"Y-Yes!"

He only walked to Francis, afraid he would fall if he ran, and threw his arms around his neck, connecting their smiling lips.

* * *

><p>Johanna was <em>barely<em> able to dodge their bodies as they fell back onto their bed, the cat bolting out the open door. They kissed eagerly, passionately, their lips mashing together, hands moving through each other's hair, their legs tangled. Soft 'mmm..'s escaped Arthur as Francis kissed and nipped at his neck, Arthur's hand resting on his head. Francis pulled his lips away, only to lift Arthur's white t-shirt over his head, and lower his lips to his collarbone, pressing kisses along it, moving up to his neck.

He delicately pressed his lips along the skin, sliding up to his earlobe, biting on the sensitive skin. A stuttered moan slipped from England as he began to graze on the skin, moving to his cheek and pressing a kiss. Arthur wrapped his arms around his neck as Francis touched his chest with his fingertips, drifting over his collarbone and nipples, pausing over one of them.

"Hmm..your nipples are hard, Arthur.", France whispered in amusement, pressing down. Arthur moaned in his ear, before pulling him closer, "I-I know, you git." Francis took that as an opportunity to move his other hand to Arthur's other nipple, pinching them between his forfinger and thumb. He smiled at the response, Arthur gasping, and began to rub his fingers over them. England twitched, his arms loosening around Francis' neck.

Francis slid his head lower, flicking his tongue out above one of Arthur's nipples, the tip of his tongue brushing against it. Arthur clutched Francis' hair in his hand, a light moan convincing Francis to roll his tongue over one of them, recieving a louder moan. "You're sensitive, arn't you?", Francis chuckled to himself, sliding his tongue over the untouched nipple. Arthur loosened his grip on France's hair, some locks falling onto his chest. Arthur felt Francis slide his hand down, over his abdomen. Once Francis reached his waist, he began to unbutton his capris.

To Francis' surprise, Arthur pushed him over, crawling over the Frenchman. Francis smirked up at him, the Brit instantly moving his hand to Francis' belt, unbuckling it, the sound of metal against metal echoing in the room. "Eager, arn't we?", France teased him. "Shut up, you got me like this.", the Brit growled, sliding Francis' belt away from his waist, tossing it on the floor.

Within minutes, their clothes were in piles on the floor, as well as the blankets. Francis was now on top again, sliding his hands over Arthur's arms and back, their lips connecting with so much force, their teeth knocked together. The Frenchman held him in his arms as he moved his sore lips against the Brit's, sliding his tongue past his lips.

Arthur pressed his lips back against Francis', their tongues rolling over each other, the Brit lightly biting down, making Francis twitch, a hum of a laugh in Arthur's throat. Francis roughly pinched Arthur's nipples again, only harder, to get revenge, the Brit jumping a little bit beneath him, a growl replacing the laugh, their tongues now wrestling in argument. Arthur felt Francis break his tongue away, as well as his lips, the Frenchman pulling back to look into his bottle green eyes.

Arthur wrapped his arms around his neck, not letting him escape, not that he would. Francis smiled, looking down at him. Arthur panted, "Wh-What?"

"What was your gift? I don't think I ever recieved it."

Arthur blushed, embarrassed at himself for forgetting once again, but remained silent for a moment. His voice cracked when he spoke again, "A-A single rose.." Francis' smile grew, "Why a rose?" Arthur wrapped his legs around Francis' waist, his eyes clouded with lust, "Because it reminded me of you.."

"Hmm..", Francis hummed, returning his swollen lips to Arthur's, the Brit tightening his legs and arms, Francis pressing into him. Francis placed his palms on the sheet, trying to push himself up at least a little bit, a confused grin on his face, "Why are you doing this?"

A smile spread over Arthur's lips, his eyes half-lidded, "Because I love you. Happy Birthday, frog.", he whispered. Francis' face grew shocked for a second before he returned the smile, gazing into his eyes, "I love you as well, Arthur."

* * *

><p>End of Unspoken<p>

_Translations:_

mon amour mignon - My cute love

incroyablement beau - Incredibly beautiful

tu l'es aussi - You are as well

Je tiens à te voir avec çela - I hope to see you wearing this

Que voulez-vous pour dinner meussiers? - What would you like for dinner, gentlemen?

Oui, je prendrai du civet d'agneau à l'olive et à la figue, s'il vous plait - Yes, Ill have the lamb, fig, and olive stew, please.

Je prendrai du civet de Cerf - I'll have the civet de Cerf

Aimeriez-vous un vin ce soir? - Would you like wine tonight?

Vos plats vont bientôt arriver, en attendant, j'espère que vous profiterez de votre soirée, messieurs - Your food will arrive soon, in the meantime, please do enjoy your evening sirs

C'était une plaisanterie - I was joking

Mais merde, ils sont des frères - But shit, they're brothers

Vos mets - Your food

Tu l'aimes - Do you like it

Mon dieu, tu es tout excité, villain garçon.. - My god, you're horny, naughty boy..

Je devrais peut-être commencer à ronronner, pour te faire sourire comme ça, non? - Maybe I should start purring to make you smile like that, no?

**Thank you all for reading/reviewing/favoriting! **ouo


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